Need
by Flora Bora
Summary: Rick is too broken and exhausted. He needs her, yet he can't have her.


When she wakes back up, hours later, she feels him instantly.

His body is pressed to her back and his hand is moving lazily. She doesn't know if he's asleep at first, but when his hand lands on deliberate landmarks across her body – her breasts, her stomach, her neck – she knows he's still awake.

Andrea takes a deep breath and grabs his arm, turning her head slightly back to him, trying to shake herself off the grogginess.

"It's getting late." Her voice is weak and broken from sleep and exhaustion and sex.

He presses his nose to her ear, knowing now how much she likes it when he does that. He likes doing it, too. "You kicking me out?"

She chuckles. "No." Then thinks about it and adds, "sort of."

Rick smiles against her neck. "What if I wanna stay?"

Andrea huffs and turns towards him, almost fully awake, but not really. Having sex with him makes her feel drunk, high, all gone. And the soreness she feels between her thighs right now is so intense it makes her feel even drunker.

She grabs his cheek with her hand and pulls his face down to hers, pecking his lips slightly. "Don't. Come on."

He sighs as well. But in a different way. In this new world she's just passing minutes. He's passing lifetimes. It's frustration, tiredness, weakness, hopelessness and it's never ending. He hasn't seen her like this in days, and it's taken so much. He's been so stressed out, so close to the edge. So close to ending like Shane. These days are killing him. They're killing him and he doesn't know how to stay alive.

Save holding on to her.

"I can't do this," he confesses and she tears up.

This isn't fair. Their thing... whatever they got going, it's both real and unreal and it messes him all up. He was a fucking idiot, a fucking fool who held on to the first woman he had sex with. And now that woman is a complete stranger and here he is in the fucking end of the world, falling in love with a blonde lawyer from Florida who put a gun to his face before he even knew her name.

"I'm just..." he starts and doesn't know how to end but he's already started so he keeps going, "just dealing with too much, and she's... driving me crazy, and the group," he pleads into her, knowing or not knowing how this shit's gonna end. This is so fucked up. "I'm just... I just need to be here."

She doesn't say anything, but sniffs and he frames her face, hating the tears he finds there.

"Andrea, please."

Yet she feels so strong. So resilient. First time he saw her he just saw a small little skinny girl trying to act all tough but all broken inside.

Now she's all strength. Keeps herself together, but keeps him together, too, every time he feels like he can't anymore all she has to do is look at him. But it's getting much harder, it's not enough anymore. He needs more. Lori hates him. Carl is turning into a stranger. The group wants him to protect them but then complain when he does. And all around them there are monsters trying to kill them.

He just needs a good night's sleep, without having to worry about Lori or Carl, the group or the undead. He needs a warm body next to his and not a cold, distant one. He needs a break. He just needs to stop for a while and breathe before he can keep running again because he feels like he doesn't have enough air.

"Andrea."

Funny how they started. Funny how she was falling apart so long ago and he was the strong one. Now she stands tall. Now she's strong. Now he is the mess.

"We're already being selfish. We can't afford it anymore," she reminds him once more. Not just once more. Once more for the 100th time. She loves him. And she knows he loves her, too. But they aren't destined to be together. It would hurt too many people. She can't do that to the group.

She runs her fingers through the black curls of his hair and keeps them there. "What do you think's gonna happen when she finds out? You think she's gonna give us her blessing? Buy us lovely china and wish us the best?" He mulls it over as he rests his head on the croak of her neck. "What about the others, you think they're gonna give us a gold star for having an affair?"

_Affair_. He hates that word and every time she uses it. It's like being stabbed in the gut and it makes everything just so much worse.

"You know she's just gonna... freak out and go crazy and we can't have that," she reminds him. "It puts us in danger."

He understands, really. It's the logical thing to do. Or perhaps end it. They've tried that many times, but it never lasts long. They need each other too much now. He probably needs her more than she needs him, but this intensity is too strong, too deeply rooted already, and they just can't walk away from each other no matter how hard they try.

"Rick, it'll be over soon."

He looks at her and he doesn't know if she means this, or the world or the undead, or life in general. He's not sure he wants to find out so he doesn't ask. He runs his hand through her stomach and kisses her one last time, taking his time, kissing spots he's kissed a thousand times over (and hopes to some day kiss a thousand times forever).

Andrea curls on her side. She can't ever bring herself to watch him go. Every time he leaves she tells herself she's gonna end this. She fails every time.


End file.
